I’ve been thinking, since St. Patrick’s Day, about the element intrinsic to a day like that – Cinco de Mayo, as well – of cultural appropriation. I rarely eat meat, but leading up to St. Patrick’s Day, I’ll look for a free-range/organic option of a nice piece of corned beef – and a couple cans of Guinness. A few years ago, I was vegan and my first (surprise!) meat meal was when my partner’s father – who never otherwise cooked, and has since left the world of the living – made an amazing pot of corned beef and cabbage!
I am right to be skeptical of celebrating in this way – I have no Irish ancestry that I know of. So why am I celebrating? Is this appropriate? Do Irish folks mind? Where should I draw the line?
So I started thinking: what would I think and how would I feel if people far and wide started copying a holiday from Jewish practice, my primary ethnic identity? Would I want a bunch of people eating matzah and drinking four cups of wine for Passover? Maybe. How about lighting candles and making latkes on Hanukah? Mmmm…not sure. How about spending a full day in a process of teshuvah – repentance and return? Well, yes, that’d be great – and I believe that the Landmark Forum is an incredible secular version of Yom Kippur! (A conversation for another time, perhaps.) And then I thought: would I want everyone to take a day of rest? Ding ding ding! A day away from driving, texting, and needing to produce. YES! We should all do that.
Wayne Muller wrote a beautiful book called Sabbath, where he asserts the “necessary wisdom of dormancy” – an opportunity to “lie fallow, and restore our souls”. Taken to the extreme, if we do not structure into our lives some time for reflection and holiness, and operate solely from a constant doing and reacting, then we are liable to make all sorts of mistakes with echoing impacts on society. As I have implemented a Sabbath practice in my life, I have seen how it creates space for me to refresh and renew – as opposed to the harried hustle that is the default in our society. (This is not to say that Orthodox Jewish practices of Shabbat are perfect. Oftentimes, people forget the essence of keeping this day sacred, and instead make it as stressful as the rest of the week!)
Over the years, I have sought to discover what a Sabbath practice looks like that truly honors restfulness. I won’t work or usually use technology, and I love sitting on my balcony and reading. I have also learned how my Sabbath practice influences my wellness. I can tell that I start to get colds when I have not intentionally taken moments to breathe in my week. Muller also wrote: “If we do not allow for a rhythm of rest in our overly busy lives, illness becomes our Sabbath – our pneumonia, our cancer, our heart attack, our accidents create Sabbath for us”. This is not, however, to moralize: “See – you didn’t take Sabbath seriously so you got sick!” Rather, as a depth psychologist, I look at symptoms as symbols which point to greater dis-ease or mis-alignment hiding more deeply under the surface.
This seems to be the bittersweet gift underlying our current environment of social distancing. Although a vibrant Sabbath practice would most surely involve connecting with community – and certainly not a race to the bottom search for toilet paper! – our whole society is getting a moment to settle. I believe that our winter months are meant for a social hibernation – a slowing and slumbering and maybe even sloughing. But, as a society, we fight that seasonal impulse – rushing around, endless parties, constant buying. If the gods require of us some going inward, then they have been left wanting. Therefore, dis-ease comes to force us into a reflective posture. It is our job to utilize this time thusly – to learn how to slow down and breathe – a capacity which, as coronavirus is reminding us, is incredibly precious.
I do not mean to make light of the wrath caused by this pandemic. I am speaking from a place of privilege – where I can talk about large societal trends, unfocused on any particular people that I know who are suffering. The ability to take time away from the marketplace requires a social safety net and alignment with financial structures that is not currently in place. While the likelihood is that the government temporarily bails us out (but mostly just helps the 1%), and we then go back to our pre-COVID-19 ways, there is potential for a lesson in all of this.
I believe that part of our work to do, if we are to arrive on the other side of this epoch with full benefit, is not just to avoid contagion. It is to learn to hibernate and cuddle – with a significant other or ourselves. It is to slow, to take easy, in stride. That is not to be taken lightly. As Lynn Ungar wrote in the poem “Pandemic,” which I’m glad has recently been getting around:
What if you thought of it as the Jews consider the Sabbath— the most sacred of times? Cease from travel. Cease from buying and selling. Give up, just for now, on trying to make the world different than it is. Sing. Pray. Touch only those to whom you commit your life. Center down.
We have the ability to choose what context we place around life’s occurrences. Clearly, the default context of a global pandemic is pandemonium. We’ve seen that already. More doing. It’s not inspiring and it doesn’t get us anywhere. What I think is just as present is the hibernation we’re all doing – the moving into ourselves to renew and reflect, so that we might arrive on the other side with newfound wisdom and purpose. It is a form of work: learning how to restructure routines. As in meditation practice, constantly coming back to our breath. To just be. And the world is calling on us right now – to take on this invaluable mixture of labor and rest. A contribution to the divine, just like our ancestors would have wished.
Community Alchemist 